


Mobbed

by shadowmaat



Series: Taking Flight [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Maul vs. Younglings, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Maul takes a wrong turn and winds up amid a gaggle of fascinated younglings with far too many questions.





	Mobbed

Maul wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to lose his way. One minute he’d been walking along with Obi-Wan as the padawan complained about a recent test to several of his classmates and the next he was alone in an unfamiliar hall.

True, he’d been rather absorbed in reading a history of the Room of a Thousand Fountains and the various ways the flora had been acquired, but he hadn’t thought he’d been  _that_ inattentive. In fact he could still hear a clamor of voices, but there seemed to be more of them now and at a much higher pitch.

Clipping the datapad to his belt he stopped, frowning at the hallway he found himself in. Brightly-colored murals decorated the walls, interspersed with doorways. He could hear laughter and squeals mixed in to the muffled din. Perhaps he’d found some of the classrooms?

The door nearest him was flung open, the noise increasing tenfold as a horde of younglings burst out of the room.

Maul stepped back, wings rising slightly at the threat. The first few children were moving too fast to stop themselves. A Selonian bounced off his legs and went tumbling back with a squeal of surprise. A Nautolan with ribbons on their head-tails landed on his feet and clung to his ankles, staring up. There was a pileup in the doorway as the slower ones stopped to gape. Maul took another step back, dragging the Nautolan with him.

“Now, now, what seems to be the holdup? Oh! Oh dear.” An adult Mon Calamari of a much paler complexion than Bant rotated their eyes at him. “Archix Clan, form up! Leave the poor, ah, Master alone!”

Instead of listening the younglings crowded around Maul, who was running out of space to back up. His wings rose even more, out of reach of the grasping hands.

“Are those wings?” “So pretty!” “Is he a monster?” “Can I have a feather?” “Can he talk?” “Can he fly?” “How come I don’t have wings?” “Why’s his skin funny?” “Can I pet him?” “Gimme a ride?” “I bet he breathes fire.” “He has horns like a zabrak!” “Zuri doesn’t have wings and  _she’s_  a zabrak!” “Does he eat younglings?” “I wanna pet him!” “Can I have a feather?” “What’s your name?” “Are you gonna eat us?”

A shrill whistle pierced the air, making Maul’s teeth ache. The younglings jumped back, finally forming up near what must have been there creche master. The relative silence didn’t stop their continued stares, however, and the Mon Calamari showed no signs of being ready to punish them the way Maul’s own master would have. That sort of thing apparently  _wasn’t done_  among the Jedi. It had taken him a long time to come to terms with that and sometimes he still didn’t trust it.

“I apologize for the unruliness of my charges, Master...?” The Master’s nostrils flared in polite interest.

“Not Master, just Maul,” he replied, allowing his wings to settle. Something was still clinging to his legs, so he ignored the pivoting left eye to look down.

The Nautolan was hiding behind him, peering out from between his legs at the rest of her agemates.

“Maul? Really? Well, goodness me! I mean, I’m Master Vrik. I believe you’ve already met Archix Clan?”

There was a chorus of greetings and hand/limb waving. Vrik finally noticed Maul’s predicament.

“Issa, is that any way to treat a guest?”

The Nautolan nodded, causing some of the younglings to giggle.

Vrik sighed. “No, you need to ask permission first. Have you asked Mas- Maul?”

Issa leaned forward and tilted her head back to stare up at Maul, her black eyes shining.  It was... uncomfortable. Unsettling. He couldn’t read a trace of fear from her, only hope and curiosity. He wanted to move away, but she had him trapped, which was ridiculous.

Issa sighed, pulling her head back and stepping aside to pat his knee. She reached up to untie one of her ribbons and held it up to him.

“It’s... a ribbon,” he said. “Very nice?”

Another titter ran through the younglings, who were starting to get wriggly again.

“She must like you,” Vrik said, smiling. “That’s one of her ribbons from home. She doesn’t give those to just anyone, you know.”

Maul  _didn’t_  know and wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about it. He bent, holding out his hand. She placed it in his palm, gave it a pat, and then curled his fingers closed around it. He let her do it and then straightened again.

“Thank you,” he said. It seemed a safe enough answer, although he had a nagging sense there should be more to it than that. She grinned at him and started to rejoin the group.

“Wait.” Maul extended a wing, scratching an itchy spot he’d been trying to ignore. One small feather worked itself free and he held it out to her. “Here.”

Soft gasps all around. Issa’s eyes went wide and she launched herself at him, hugging his leg before reaching up to take the feather.

“That’s very kind of you, Maul!” Vrik’s left eye was staring at him again. “What do we say, Issa?”

Issa, all shiny eyes and a big grin, dipped into a quick bow. “’nk you!” She ran back to her year mates, who clustered around her, making pleased sounds.

“That certainly was remarkable,” Vrik said. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in-”

“If you could point me in the direction of the living quarters, I would appreciate it.” His hand remained clenched around the ribbon and he couldn’t quite stop the twitch in his wings.

“Oh? Oh, yes, of course.”

Vrik rattled off a set of directions and Maul headed that way as fast as was reasonable, Archix Clan yelling their goodbyes in his wake. He had no idea what had possessed him to give away one of his feathers to a stranger, and a child at that. Maybe it was something in the air of the Temple itself that made people delusional. That would explain a lot.

The ribbon, when he slowed to examine it, was covered in tiny interwoven fish done in shimmering gold and green threads. Something from  _home_ , Vrik had said. He smoothed it between his fingers before stuffing it into his pocket. Obi-Wan and the others didn’t need to know about this. They’d only ask  _questions_. He’d add it to his hidden cache of objects later, but for now all he wanted to do was find Obi-Wan and get something to eat. He was feeling ravenous, and now that he’d scratched  _one_ itch all of the others were clamoring for his attention, too. Maybe Obi-Wan could help him reach the tough spots.

Another few turns saw him in familiar halls and revealed a familiar figure as well.

“There you are!” Obi-Wan jogged towards him, a smile brightening his face. “I was getting worried! Where’d you go? Anywhere interesting?”

“Not really,” Maul said. “Why don’t we get some dinner?”

Obi laughed, nudging him with his arm. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day! I think it’s Noodle Night in the cafeteria.”

They walked side by side and Maul let Obi-Wan’s voice wash over him, soothing his frazzled nerves. Now that he knew where the creche wing was he vowed never to visit it again. Ever.


End file.
